Category: Moving

  • As I waited in the long check-in line I couldn't help overhearing the interchange between a thirty-something couple just ahead.

    The petite wife sobbed as she pushed back an errant strand of her long dark hair. Then she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and said, "I just don't want to Blog. Couple airport. 6..13 leave this place. My mom is here and all my friends." 

    "I know, I know," her husband said gently, then wrapped his burly arms around her and pulled her close.

    He stared off in the distance, then said, "Sweetheart, we've talked this over so many times and we agreed we can't pass up this opportunity. This will give us a so much brighter future. Remember?"

    She nodded, tears still streaking her cheeks.

    "It'll be okay, Hon, I know it will. Can't we just go and try to be happy?"

    At that moment the airline clerk beckoned them forward.

    Meeting up again

    When we got to our gate, there they were. Their conversation was sparse, mostly the husband methodically pointing out why their upcoming move would be good. She bit her quivering lip and nodded her head. 

    I could have written the script for their exchanges, since my husband and I have lived it a time or two. 

    Soon the wife headed toward the restroom.

    That's when I glimpsed the young husband's heart. His eyes, filled with love, were glued to her departing back. Once she was out of sight his shoulders sagged. Now his face betrayed his pain, his mouth working, and he wiped his eyes a time or two.

    As soon as she reappeared he pasted on a big smile and sat up straighter.

    Perhaps she looked over and judged him to be a man who put opportunity first. Maybe she thought him filled with confidence. She might even have supposed he didn't much care about what mattered to her.

    This couple kept me thinking all the way to my destination 

    I couldn't escape the sense they communicated a lot about love and marriage.

    We females more often wear our feelings openly. When our husbands don't respond with equal emotion we may think them cold, uncaring, even selfish. All the while they may be holding back their own emotions.

    Could that be because we say we want them to be strong? Disciplined? Responsible? 

    The young husband's dejected look and stance the minute his wife walked away telegraphed his personal struggle. But he never let his wife see that. She needed to believe that he believed their plan was wise and good–and swallow any reservations of his own. 

    How often hasn't my husband done that for me?

    I suspect the answer would be more often than I ever guessed.

    Bringing their story home   

    I don't know what happened to those two, but I'm grateful I was able to peek inside their life for those few minutes.

    They caused me to look within. I confess I didn't much like what I saw.

    How often have I been so full of my own emotion I was blind to my husband's feelings?

    God gave me a gift that day, another personal object lesson. A reminder to look–and judge–with my heart, not just my eyes. Otherwise it's making the world all about ME.

    Jesus spoke of another kind of love

     “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."  –John 13:34-35 (NIV)

    Not one of us can live up to that standard, but we can be careful to value the opinions and emotions of our husband–or wife–and other family members as much as our own.

    That love and respect is like soothing oil on an aching wound, especially in situations when we can't quite get on the same page.  

    Isn't it a wonder how again and again God surprises us with flashes of insight in unexpected ways . . . if we open the eyes of our hearts.

    Still learning, 

    Lenore

     

    Learning about love from strangers in an airport

  • Sorry I've been so stingy with posts lately, but we've been moving.

    Well, not really. It's just our stuff that's been moving.Blog. 4.15.10 painting-wall_300

    It started (as it often does) with me, thinking we needed to paint our great room and kitchen. Let's say this has, a-hem, been mentioned before.

    This time my husband surprised me and said, "Well, call someone and get an estimate."

    Yeah!

    This would be a first, since sanity dictated we needed to let a pro paint our high ceilings. So I made one phone call to a painter we knew and set off a whirlwind. By the time he arrived next morning to give us an estimate, we had decided to paint all our interior walls but the laundry room and my office. After all, in our home you can stand in the hall and see into all the other rooms. 

    (By now I'm off-the-charts delighted and ready to nominate my spouse for Husband of the Year.)

    When would said painter have an opening? Well, he said, "I have several exterior jobs scheduled, but they predict rain all next week. This is Saturday. Any chance you could be ready by, say, Monday?"

    We looked at each other and said, of course we could, since they would move all the furniture out to  our garage. "All" we had to do between then and Monday was to take down the pictures, clear off the bookshelves and all other surfaces, strip down the place to furniture only….  Everything ended up in the laundry room, the garage, our not-to-be painted closet and yes, my office–the only safe places in the house.

    Monday morning they showed up promptly at 8 a.m. For the next three days we wandered around, going home only to sleep and glad they used low-odor paint. (Since they did one area at a time we would always have a bed to sleep in.) Yes, we could have left town, but we both wanted to be available and to be able to see the progress.

    They finished up Wednesday evening, earlier than expected. The painters had set the furniture back in place and cleaned up after themselves neatly, but we when we looked around, we groaned. All that stuff we yanked off the shelves over the weekend had to go back, piece by piece. Worse yet, although we had been told there would be "dust" from spraying the ceilings, we hadn't realized how, despite their masking off surfaces, this film would cling to every inch of every surface and not wipe off. That meant anything not freshly painted would need to be cleaned and polished…first.

    Years ago I swore off spring housecleaning, but that's what it feels like. The good news is that we suddenly have clean windows and polished cabinets and furniture. I've worked my way through most of the piles, bought a new shower curtain, etc. After all, while we're at it, maybe this thing would look better over there, which means that place needs something, so maybe if I move this and then take that over there….

    You get the picture. Please be kind and don't even mention the mountain of laundry that nags at me. 

    So it's been fun, but also exhausting. The beige-y color is great and everything looks fresh and clean. Still, it's a new color scheme, don'tcha know? So some things don't work as well with this.  (It's kind of nice to have an excuse to replace a few things.) 

    By now I want it to be o-v-e-r. I love our new digs, but I want to settle in and get on with life.

    You might say we had all the "fun" of moving, with the added bonus of already knowing our great community. Both my husband and I agree that we probably needed to be pushed out of our, shall we say, ruts–and that's a good thing.

    Question for you: What's your story about moving, or about being nudged out of your comfort zone?

    Blessings,

    Lenore

     

     

     

     

    How to move without leaving home